


The Definition of Insanity

by SkyPancakes



Series: Blindspot AU [6]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character, Blindspot!AU, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Mikey is trying damn it, Post-Same As It Never Was, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyPancakes/pseuds/SkyPancakes
Summary: Over two decades ago, Michelangelo stood alone in the streets of New York and swore to never trust his brothers again. Fast forward to present time, and here he is, doing his best to keep them from self destructing anymore than they already have. With Donnie back from his own private hell, Leo crushed under the burden of his choices, and Raph furious with the world and himself, Mike's got his hands full. There's no time to break down now.Seriously, who is really the stubborn one here?---Same as it Never Was divergent - in a world where by miracle alone the brothers survive and Donatello came back from "Purgatory"- a place where he could do nothing but watch as time went on without him.This is part of a series of various oneshots, drabbles, and snippets from an alternate ALTERNATE universe in which Leonardo is blind, Donatello is guilt stricken, Michelangelo is trying real hard to forgive, and Raphael is learning how to cast aside his anger in favour of loving his brothers.
Series: Blindspot AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241096
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	The Definition of Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Valpoet and I dreamt this AU up ages ago, back when I was allergic to posting things publicly.  
> This fic is meant to be a sequel piece to Val's works in the Blindspot!AU. This is readable alone, but they are all parts of the same puzzle.

The city looks its best when the sun is rising.

Just two years ago the skies were murky; a thick, ever present grey barely thinning enough for dawn to peek through. Now it’s a thin, wavering blue, slowly clearing to meet the day. The sunrise, once an ominous and murky blood red dying the clouds, now holds notes of light pink and soft orange that paint the buildings as the sky brightens. The sounds of the city are soft, near silent save for the cooing of pigeons. Its citizens are still learning how to live without hiding, without fearing laughing too loudly and bringing Shredders’ Enforcers upon them. And so, only soft murmuring can be heard. But they are _there_. Alive. Moving forward.

Mikey takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, almost in a sigh. He still remembers those colder days. These few years were hardly enough time to forget. So much of his life back then was spent running, hiding, and striking back. Sometimes alone, sometimes with humans who hated The Shredder as much as he did, but never, _never_ , with his brothers.

He’d hated being alone, then. Now, he kind of relishes it. It’s time to himself. Time to think and breathe, without having to feel guilty gazes burning into his shell, or worry about what his wreck of a family was up to now. Only he and Leo know of this old clock tower near the edge of the city, and Leo knows better than to bother Mikey here in the early morning. This is Mikey’s time to himself.

“We keep doing the same ‘ol thing, don’t we?” He murmurs to the city. He can hear the clatter of a baker rolling his meager bags of flour into his shop down the street. Closer, a tired mother shushes her crying baby in a crumbling apartment building. The edges of the city still show the worst of the scars, but the people there are carrying on, making the best of what they have. Mikey can relate.

“Despite everything, we keep on going. We’re a bunch of jokers that don’t know how to give up.” Mikey quirks a tired grin.

This is his ritual. His solace. He’d been coming and going here for twenty-odd years, not long after he finally accepted the idea that he would never be able to bring Raph and Leo around. Not on his own. He’d been here, every few sunrises, watching his fellow New Yorkers grit their teeth and _live on_ , if only out of sheer spite.

It’s goddamn inspiring, really.

Mikey takes another deep breath, letting his eyes flutter closed as the sun’s light peeks over the horizon. It’s another beautiful day. He better make the most of it.

His eyes open. A quick glance around, and he's down the side of the building and across to the nearest roof. There's no Enforcers anymore, but he sticks to the shortening shadows anyways. It's a good warmup for the day, right? And if he's seen, which ain't happening, who'll do anything about it? The edges of the city are Resistance territory. He'd get a friendly wave at worst.

A jump to the right, roof slide, leap, spin. Reaching the lair is a silent matter, which Mike takes quiet pride in. He may not be the loud and boisterous kid he used to be, but he _earned_ the title of ninja. 

Leo is in the kitchen when he arrives. The oldest mutant turtle is silent, hunched, unseeing gaze directed at his teacup as though it held all of life's secrets. Maybe to him, it did.

"Morning, Leo." Mike greets, then watches as Leo stirs, murmurs an absent greeting in Mike's direction, then returns to his tea. It's one of his bad days, then. 

Leo won't move for another fifteen minutes, until Mikey puts a plate down in front of him, but that's okay. At least he's eating. 

Mikey sighs and gets to work. Scrambled eggs, toast, and of course more tea for Leo, the addict. If Leo was in a better mood, maybe they'd talk a little. Not about much- what we need for dinner, should we go on patrol tonight, that kinda thing. But this was a bad day, so Leo's lost in his head, somewhere Mike can't reach and never really could.

Mikey eats his breakfast quickly, then he's up again, snatching a bag of snacks from the cupboard. He pauses as he passes Leo, clasping his brother's shoulder on the way out. It's hard to tell if Leo consciously noticed or not, but it will have to do for now. The Lab isn't too far away, and that's on purpose. No one wanted Donnie too far away from the main part of the Lair. His bedroom isn't too far after that, either, and Mike peeks in there first. 

Still asleep. Good. Don needs it after going the last two days with barely a handful of hours between them. 

Mike pauses there, watching his long lost brother curl up a little more under his blanket. Watching Don breathe peacefully was nice, though Mike knows it won't last. Not with the kind of nightmares that followed his brother around. Mike can't take those away, either, as much as he wants to. His hand clenches, and he looks away. Don's purple sweater was tossed haphazardly on the edge of a dresser, probably Raph's doing when he carried their nerd of a turtle over from the Lab last night. The lilac purple pockets were bulging, a bag of trail mix peeking out on one side. Looks good, still full of snacks. Which means Don didn't eat. _Damnit._

Mikey makes a mental note to make something easy on the stomach at lunch for him later. 

Mike withdraws silently and moves further down the hall, peeking in on the next room. He needn't bother, really- he could hear Raph's signature snores from down the hall. They have a raspy quality to them from his years of smoking, a sort of rumbling rattle that Mike is beginning to grow fond of. It meant that the guy was here, after all. 

Mikey leaves a glass of water next to Raph's bed, then glances to the chair where Raph's leather jacket lay. At least he took it off, yesterday. Sometimes he didn't bother. 

Mike shakes his head and stuffs a few more snacks in there. Honestly, sometimes he feels like freaking Santa Clause doing this, but it was the only way they'd eat sometimes. 

Mike snorts softly as he steps back out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Mikey to the rescue, feeding his self destructive brothers so they'd breathe another day. The same brothers who, save Donnie, dropped him like a hot potato when shit got tough. Who is really the dumb one in this scenario? 

Mike passes the hall mirror and stops, glancing at it. He can see the grimace digging in on his face, a bitter and unhappy resentment growing behind it. He purses his lips at his image, then sighs.

"Getting mad about it won't change anything." He tells his reflection, watching the bitterness in his own eyes at his words. 

"They apologized, we talked, and they're here, so let's just move on already." 

His reflection changes to sad and tired, so Mikey leaves it behind, heading to the dojo. What's the point in dwelling on the past? Training always helps get the hard feelings out, so that's where he'll be.

Right, left, centre. Mike has full control of his body, and he loves it. This is his zone, right now, as private as his Clock tower sanctuary, and no one else was allowed to intrude on it. The knot in his chest slowly lets go. He can do this. He can handle anything. Living this kinda life now- it's a freaking cakewalk compared to before.

Nodding, Mike walks over to a remote on the side wall of the dojo. His metallic hand hovers over the button, hesitating, then presses it. 

Donnie's training robot beeps, then jerks to life, but Mike is already leaping over it, nunchucks ready. Right, left, side. Mike smirks and bats away another attack. Too easy. Another swing of the nunchuck, and the Robot's metal arm is dented, scraping against its body as it moves. 

The sound sends a jolt through Mike's spine, and he leaps back, heart pounding. 

That sound is too familiar. It sounds like- Mike snarls, snapping his chucks in place. "It's not a Karaibot, Mike. Get ahold of yourself." 

The robot advances, and Mike takes a stumbling step back. With its arm bent and dented, the scraping sounds continue with a familiar, dreadful screech. 

**_No_**.

Mike's hands clench his chucks so hard that it hurts, and he leaps forwards, striking a heavy blow to the training bot. The robot falls to the ground with a crash, beeping before going still. 

Mike looks down at it with hooded eyes, breathing heavily. His flesh hand shakes as he puts away his chucks. 

"Ha… freaking robots." He breathes after a very long moment of tense silence, his heart finally dislodging from its panicked place in his throat.

"Need to ask Don to oil it, or something… yeah." 

His shoulders itch where they meet his stitched together shell. Time to take a shower and cool off. 

It's much later, though not that late when he finally emerges from his room again. Having a long meditation session after the shower had finally shaken the last of the morning spar from him. He glances at the clock in the hallway. Just about 11 o'clock. Perfect, that's enough time to make lunch. Raph's snoring has vanished, which means he's beating the stuffing out of a punching bag again. Mike's brothers are predictable, at the very least. 

He should just start lunch, but Mike's feet have him at the dojo again anyways. Inside, he can hear it. The familiar double thump of a bag being punched, accompanied by the slightly wheezy heavy breathing of his second oldest brother.

Mike leans against the door frame to watch him for a moment. 

Raph looks like a turtle possessed. Sweat flies off of his forehead as he lunges at the bag like it's Shredder himself. His fist connects particularly hard with the bag, splitting it open, and Mike suppresses a sigh. They were probably single-handedly keeping a craftsman in business with all the sandbags they went through. Raph steps over the bag, still wheezing, his fists clenched tightly. Even from the door, Mikey can tell they're shaking a little. 

Right. That's enough of that for one day. 

Mikey steps into the room.

"Shit, that ain't fair, the guy's dealin' with enough as it is..." Raph curses to himself, clearly unaware of his brother's presence behind him. 

Great, Raph's in guilt trip mode. That's two out of three. If Donnie wakes up from nightmares today, Mikey will have turtle bingo. At least Raph's the easiest to distract.

"...are you done talking to yourself yet?" He rolls on the balls of his feet a little, just in case, smirking when Raph jerks around. 

The guy looks like he stuck a metal fork in an outlet. Ha. Who says Mikey doesn't still have it. 

"Don't do that when I'm punchin' shit, Mike." Raph half wheezes out, putting his hand to his chest after the minor heart attack. Mike barely withholds a snort. If Raph honestly thinks he could punch Mike when Mike creeps up on him, then he hasn't been paying attention to what Mike can _really_ do. 

Not that Mike was about to say that out loud. Older brother's pride and all that jazz. 

"You weren't punching anything for five whole seconds, Raph. Figured you were fair game at this point." Mike teases. 

Raph just frowns and says nothing at all, guilt battling the rattled look he's had on since Mike walked in. 

Mike watches him, amusement fading as the silence lengthens. Back to normal, then. Awkward, guilty and distant. Mikey carefully tucks away a sudden flash of frustrated, furious grief. He misses the Raph that treated him like a brother instead of a fragile stranger. 

"Y- yeah, yer right. Sorry." Raph manages, looking away. His hand twitches towards his pocket, and Mike wonders if he found some smokes again. Donnie is usually pretty good at finding them before Raph can smoke any, but sometimes he missed a few. 

"Leo up yet?" 

"What kind of dumb question is that?" Mike would laugh, but the moment's passed and to be honest, he's over it.

"Leo's been up for, like, four hours. It's eleven in the morning."

Leo's been up for a lot more than that, but Raph looks guilty enough without adding anything else to his plate. 

"Is it? Fuck. I've just been thinking of goddamn smokes for three hours, then." Raph grumbles, crossing his arms and _pouting._ Hilarious. 

"Good thing Don got rid of them, then." 

Raph gives him a Look, and Mike breathes a little easier, because as bad as things are, they aren't bad enough that Raph can't get casually grumpy with him. 

"Fuck you."

"Not in a million years, Raphie-boy." Mike smirks, then dodges the most telegraphed punch in existence. He'd laugh, but Raph's quick to double over, doing his best to cough a lung out. Was he punching that bag the entire time he was here? No, even if Raph was, his lungs were being brutal on him.

Mike really needs to ask Donnie more about Raph's whole smoking situation. Later. If he can stomach what kind of answer he may get. 

  
  


"When's breakfast?" Raph asks, finally, having caught his breath. 

"Breakfast is four hours ago, but you can try to help with lunch if you can remember how to breathe." Mike gives Raph a pointed glance and yeah, it's a low blow, but if Raph doesn't get some tough love he'll just keep stashing cigs until he really _does_ cough a lung out. 

"Fuck off. Seriously? Only you an' Leo are awake that goddamned early." Donnie could be too, sometimes, but it doesn't count as waking up early if the guy never went to bed.

"Snooze you lose. Offer of helping with lunch still stands." 

Raph pauses, and Mike waits for him to agree. Because if there's one thing he's learned about this guilty version of his brother, it's that after the anger fades he needs distracting. Better to be breaking dishes in the kitchen then agonizing over shit in a corner until lunch is ready. 

"Right. Sure. I'll help." Raph says finally, as though there was any other answer he would give. 

Honestly. It was like herding cats. 

Mikey almost snorts at the absurd mental image that brings, but this is no time to muse, because Raph's scowling at nothing again. Mikey slides over and gives him a gentle knock on the head.

"Earth to Raphie ~" Mikey calls, deliberately light, pulling his brother from darker thoughts. 

"Anyone in there? No? Nothing's changed then. Come on, if you're going to help me, you might as well _help_ instead of standing around like a musclehead." With how much Raph was going to slow him down in the kitchen, if they didn't go soon they'd be eating lunch at dinner time.

"I _ain't_ a musclehead." Raph half protested, half grumbled, but trailed dutifully after him.

Good, at least something was going right today. Now, for lunch. Stir fry with marinated chicken, so that Donnie can get some rice and the rest of them could get a meal. Mike wants to toss more in there for the brainiac, really, but he's learned from the last time. He'll have to make the guy a shake later. 

Raph's on chopping duty, and Leo's still drinking tea, though he looks a little more alert now. How much of that is because Raph keeps breaking dishes, Mikey can't say. Mike teases him about it, just a little, just to see how huffy he gets. Raph's halfway through the carrots they're about to cook, too, but that's fine. Mike has more where they came from. 

Donnie wanders in looking for coffee just as the food is about done. Despite all of the sleeping he did, he looks absolutely exhausted, with that out-of-it look that just screams he had another bad nightmare. _Turtle Bingo._ But what was Mike's prize? Could he ask for a return?

Fuck it. Mike can still work with this. 

Mike plates the food, then nudges Raph out of his latest bout of guilty scowling at the counter. 

" _Watch this._ " He whispers, then whips the loaded plate at Leo like a Frisbee.

Leo's hand flies up in a blur, catching the plate before he probably even registered what happened. Mikey has to hand it to the guy- Leo's reflexes are no joke. 

"Alright, Leo, lunch is up. Stop brooding and eat."

It's a signal for all of them, but predictably, Donnie immediately heads for the door. 

Raph's on him like a mother cat snatching up her kitten, and Mikey doesn't even twitch because if there's one thing he can count on, it's Raph Mother Henning the fuck out of Don. 

"You too, Don. Don't think yer running back to the lab when we ain't seen ya all day. Mike an' I _actually_ worked together on this one." Raph almost manages to sound proud of the fact, and Mikey feels a little better about dragging Raph to the kitchen in the first place, broken plates or no.

"It's true." Leo pipes up, finally stirring now that he's had food whipped at his head. 

"Raph only broke four dishes today."

Mike rolls his eyes, then bites the inside of his cheek as he watches Raph try _really damn hard_ not to explode, any amusement over the matter teetering with the worry that Raph actually _might_. But the moment passes, and Raph just huffs.

"How'd ya even – you know what? Not even gonna ask." 

Raph scrapes the hell out of the floor with his chair, and Mike allows himself to breathe again at the ear splitting noise. Pettiness was way better than ugly words. Raph is smirking at Leo, but Mikey ignores him now in favor of handing out the rest of the food. 

Donnie actually looks up at him when he sees the rice, and Mike offers a smile, patting him on the shoulder. Don tries, Mike knows that, and that's all he can ask of the guy. Hopefully, Don would manage to keep at least this much down today. 

"Ya blind bastard." Raph is huffing, and Mikey slips into his own seat, lunch in hand.

"Apparently you weren't in my blindspot." Leo quips, and it's awful enough that Mikey has to join his brothers in a groan. 

It's stupid and they're all kinds of messed up, but Leo's still making dumb puns, Donnie still has his gentle gaze and Raph is still protective as hell. Mike glances around the table, at Raph grousing, Leo making more blind puns and Donnie's quiet smile, and lets himself relax just a tiny bit more.

Maybe, just maybe, they were gonna be okay.


End file.
